Blood
by BloodFromTheThorn
Summary: Arthur was going to get Merlin back to Camelot if it killed him. He wouldn't leave him here alone.


The raiders had come out of nowhere, cutting through the small contingent of guards they had brought with them like paper. Men fell with cries of fright and pain, their last moments ones of terror and Arthur's heart filled with black rage; he had no respect for an enemy that attacked from the shadows like a coward instead of facing them head on.

Merlin cried out in surprise from beside him and without even thinking about it the Prince grabbed his arm and forced the younger man behind him, putting himself between the servant and the attackers. Despite being unable to fight worth a damn Merlin still struggled against the tug, trying to stand his ground but Arthur was stronger.

The next minutes were lost in shouts and pain and fatigue, the slashing of swords and the wet slice of blood flying through the air. Arthur's mind was calm, straight, used to falling into the pattern of a battle as he had been taught to do his whole life so he almost moved in a bubble, unaware of anything but the man in front of him. The only passage of time he noticed was the gradual slowing of his sword arm and the ache of his bicep as fatigue crept into his muscles. He pushed it away with practiced ease.

The few guards still standing were doing what they could to hold their own but not one of them was uninjured and they faltered against sheer numbers.

When the last raider had fallen, sliding off Arthur's sword with a sickening squelch and a gurgle of blood, all but one of them was dead. The remaining man wasn't in a good way, lying on his side as he hauled breath in and out of dying lungs, a thin line of red sliding from his lips to drip to the dirt below him. Armour clad hands clasped at his chest, trying to staunch the flow from the wound that tore through skin and muscle and bone alike, cleaving him open like a piece of fruit, ripe for feasting. Arthur was sickened. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Merlin leaning against a tree, looking pale but alive - he put the servant from his mind and crouched beside his last man.

"Sire, I'm sorry," he said - or tried to say, the words getting caught on the death in his throat and twisting into near-incomprehensibility.

Arthur offered him the smallest of smiles and gripped one of his hands, having come loose from the wound as the strength deserted him. "You fought with honour. We shall remember your sacrifice. Be at peace, Guardsman Donnell." He surprised himself at knowing the name.

He died quietly, slipping unconscious before his breathing stopped. Arthur took comfort from that, knowing that his last moments were not in pain.

"Arthur?" Merlin was still behind Arthur, sounding as though he hadn't moved from the tree he had been leaning against.

"We need to get back to Camelot," he told him, not taking his eyes away from the still warm corpse. "Tell my father about what has happened and send out men to collect these bodies. They deserve a soldier's funeral."

"Arthur," Merlin said again, losing the question mark. His voice was quiet and gentle, somehow faint even though it shouldn't be. The strange anomaly had Arthur turning as he stood to face his servant.

As predicted, the servant hadn't moved since Arthur had last looked at him, still leaning against the old oak like he was tired even though he hadn't been the one fighting for their lives. It wasn't until the Prince really looked at Merlin that he noticed something was off. The paleness he'd noted before had worsened (which said a lot for someone as paper white as _Merlin_) until his skin looked like sheets of bones, stretched out over the matchsticks of his skeleton and his breathing was just slightly too heavy, laboured under some weight Arthur couldn't comprehend. Arms thinner than twigs were wrapped awkwardly around his torso. Worry bit Arthur's heart.

"Merlin? What..." He trailed off as the servant shifted slightly, trying to stand but not finding the strength in his legs to do so. He staggered, desperately fighting to regain his balance but failing.

Arthur dove forwards, arms coming up to catch the thin man so that he wouldn't crash into his armour and hurt himself. Merlin didn't move as the prince lowered him gently to the ground, cradling him in a way that probably would have had him embarrassed had it been anyone else.

"What's happened?" He asked, eyes roving over the body in his arms, catching on the arms still cradled around his stomach then faltering as they saw the first glimmer of crimson between slender fingers. "Merlin what's wrong?"

"I-err," he started, smiling that self mocking smile of his and trying a laugh. It sounded wet. "I think I might need help." The hands shifted, pulling back just a little so that Arthur had an unobstructed view of the red stain that spread out from a ragged tear in the familiar blue shirt and his breath caught in his throat. Liquid pulsed from the wound in time to his heart beat, thick and warm and the most terrible thing the Prince of Camelot had ever seen.

Terrified, he did the only thing he could think of: he started joking. "What have you done to yourself _now _Merlin? Fall over and hurt yourself?"

The servant's pallid face pulled into a weary grin. "Something like that," he told him. "It - err - it stings a bit."

Arthur gave a disbelieving huff. "Well, I can imagine it would. We should probably get you back to Gaius."

"Oh god don't," Merlin said, grimacing at him. "He'll murder me for getting myself into trouble. Honestly Arthur, I'm safer out here."

"Probably but I'm still taking you back. Maybe if I'm lucky Gaius will let me watch him screaming at you."

"You're a terrible person," the servant told him. He said nothing else after that, apparently unable to as Arthur hefted him into his arms and the pain washed over him like ice cold water. Whatever colour was left in his face fled, leaving him looking half dead already. More blood dripped slowly onto the already sodden earth below their feet.

"Ready?" The prince asked him, easily bearing the thin man's weight despite his fatigue. Merlin really should eat more. Unable to answer, the servant nodded.

* * *

They hadn't been too far from Camelot when they were attacked but it was still much further than Arthur would like. With each step he became more and more aware of the blood sliding over his arms from where he held the servant and the ever growing weakness in the trembling limbs. Merlin had long since lost consciousness.

By the time Camelot's spires appeared in the far distance - still miles away - Arthur was almost ready to drop.

"We're going to take a quick break," he informed the oblivious man in his arms. "Just five minutes."

He already hated himself for it but he didn't have another option; if he tried to continue he'd just collapse and potentially hurt both of them further. He settled Merlin against a tree, doing his best not to jostle the injured man and knowing he had failed when the movement elicited a groan.

"Arth..." He breathed, so softly the prince almost didn't hear him.

"Merlin? You've been sleeping. Letting me do all the work, as per usual."

A very faint smile crossed the servant's face. "What're y'talking 'bout?" He slurred. "I do all t'hard stuff." HHHe still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Of course you do _Mer_lin. We're almost back at Camelot now. Just have to rest a minute." Arthur was trying to keep him talking so that he could look at the wound without causing too much discomfort.

It was deep. A blade had been driven in just above his navel though it hadn't gone all the way through and thankfully it hadn't been twisted at all. If it had, Merlin would already be dead.

"How's'it look?" This time blue eyes flickered open very slightly to watch him.

"Just a scratch." Arthur knew he should probably be doing something to stop the bleeding but his hands were crafted for fighting not for healing - he had no idea what to do. "You've trained with Gaius right? You know what herbs you'd need if someone was bleeding too much, don't you?"

It was a terrible attempt at not directly addressing the subject and Merlin knew it but he played along regardless. "You'd need some yarrow," he said, voice clearing a little as he cleared his throat. "And cloth t'bind the wound."

The prince nodded, thankful that he knew what yarrow looked like without having to ask. "I'll be back in just a second, alright? Don't wander off."

Merlin nodded, exhausted and let his eyes slip closed again. Arthur hurried through the trees, cursing the fading light, until he found his prize and tore at the yarrow leaves like a man crazed. Logically he knew that he shouldn't care about the servant but it was far too late to try and convince himself that their relationship was anything other than friends. He was scared for him. The only thing still keeping him going was a bone deep determination to keep the younger man safe, to ensure that he got him to safety and he knew he couldn't truly rest until he had succeeded. He would not let a hunting trip get Merlin killed.

When he returned, the servant was unconscious again, his breathing steadily growing worse. He applied the herbs with clumsy but gentle hands and bound it with a strip of cloth he tore from the tunic he was wearing under his armour. Merlin didn't stir when he pulled the makeshift bandage tight.

The trek continued, their pace steadily slowing as Arthur tired, stumbling more often and having to continually heave Merlin up from where he had slipped down slightly. They were never going to make it, Arthur just knew. Merlin hadn't stirred once since they had stopped and his skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, chest barely moving in breaths that hardly existed.

The grief didn't hit him all at once in the way he'd expected; it more came with gradual realisation, slowly and calmly in the dark silence of the forest. His steps didn't falter and he didn't ever for one moment think of giving up or slowing down - even if he would be carrying Merlin's corpse the rest of the way, he wouldn't leave him here, not alone. It was strange, how he could leave his men without a second thought (he knew that they would come back for them so that was all that mattered) but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Merlin. Maybe it was because he'd be leaving him on his own.

But that was a lie, of course it was. He couldn't leave the servant because he wasn't a servant - he was a friend. His best friend. He wasn't going to leave his body out here for scavengers to pick at until there was nothing left but frail bones and ragged clothes, no remnants of the man he had once been. So Arthur was going to carry him back to Camelot even if it killed him.

The moon was high in the summer sky when he finally staggered out of the tree line and towards the Western gate, calling out in a hoarse voice to the guards posted there. They rushed out to help him, one of the relieving him of his burden - he tried to resist but he was exhausted, his mind muddled and somehow he couldn't seem to understand what was really going on. Before he could get his bearings again, Merlin had been pulled from his arms and was being hurried away, out of his sight. The remaining two guards were on either side of him - holding him up perhaps? - and one of them was talking but he had no idea what was being said.

He was just so damn tired and Merlin had been taken and for all his words and defeat and determination he had actually made it. But had Merlin?

The question didn't fade even as he passed out.

* * *

When Merlin woke up he spent a good few minutes trying to work out where he was and what was happening. He felt... tired. Which was weird, considering it felt as though he had been asleep for days but he couldn't be bothered to try and work it out now. Very slowly, with great care, he cracked his eyelids open, relieved to find that the room he found himself in wasn't overly bright, lit by the gentle glow of candles.

"Merlin?" That was a voice he knew, and one he had heard recently. A memory stirred of a dark forest and pain but he pushed it away, unwilling to face it right now. His eyes landed on the blonde sat beside his bed, leaning forwards in anticipation.

"Arthur?" His voice was heavy and cracked, torn through with the dryness of his throat.

The prince's face broken into a wide smile, eyes lighting up over dark bags as though he hadn't slept in days. He reached idly for a goblet of water on the table beside him and carefully poured some through Merlin's cracked lips. "You've overslept."

"What time is it?"

"Just past midnight."

Merlin frowned at him. "Shouldn't you be asleep? Shouldn't I be asleep? What's happening?"

"I promised Gaius I'd watch over you so that he could get some sleep - he'd spent so long fussing over you that I think he forgot to take care of himself. As for you, you've been asleep far too long as it is, it was about time you woke up. And nothing is happening right at this moment since just about everyone in Camelot is in bed. Does that cover it?"

The servant shot him a half-hearted glare but didn't ask anything else. His memories crowded back on his mind then, forcing their way in so that he had no choice but to pay them attention and all of a sudden he could see a forest stretching out around him while agony flared from his gut and red dripped endlessly through shaking fingers. "Oh."

"Oh indeed. You had Gwen worried you know."

"How bad was it?"

"Well," Arthur said, thinking. "I think that maybe in the very distant future, Gaius might let you out of this room again but chances of him letting you leave Camelot are slim. I think I heard him muttering about never letting you out of his sight."

"That bad?"

"I wouldn't want to be you right now is all."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

There was a moment of silence while Merlin scrounged for courage and then: "No, really, thank you. You didn't have to do all that you did to save me."

Arthur shrugged off the gratitude like it was nothing. "It wasn't like I did much. You seriously need to put on some weight Merlin. It's a wonder you don't blow away with the wind."

"Well, we can't all be as heavy as you."

That took a very short second to process before Arthur glared. "_Mer_lin! I'm your future king."

"Exactly. Not king yet. I have a few more years where I get to say anything I want."

"That's what you think. As soon as you're healed, I'm throwing you in the stocks."

"Since I'm going to be stuck here with Gaius, that might not be a bad thing."

Arthur chuckled fondly. "I'm glad you're alive Merlin."

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

_Just something that came to mind. _

_Thoughts or prompts, review or message me. Thanks for reading._


End file.
